Odds and Ends
by Eyeliner-Vampire
Summary: Noll's tasked with recruiting a new psychic with a rather odd ability. One-shot.


**Odds and Ends**

 _A Ghost Hunt short story,_

Noll asked, "Why are you here?"

The boy, older than him but still young enough to look out of place in the spacious SPR office, shrugged. "A test or something? They told me to talk to some doctor. I'm guessing that's you."

Noll scowled. Not at the underlying jest of the question but out of weariness. He had long grown used to people questioning his expertise. "Indeed," he said, "but why are you here?" The question was more to himself. Of course, Noll already knew why he was here.

The boy sitting across from him was Lyle Mund, a chemistry student from Queen's College. He was supposedly the catalyst in a series of events stemming from a demonstration of the Light Box and a otherwise unachievable score.

"I don't know," Lyle said, "you're the doctor here."

Noll sighed. The 'test' he was referring to was a rather simple one; guess which light will turn on next. The odds are, more or less, even. Given enough chances, the average human will be wrong 50% of the time. Noll remembered, rather fondly, the frustration of his Japanese assistant while she struggled to predict even a single light. And where she failed, Lyle seemed to succeed.

"97% success rate on a game of chance. That is a mathematical impossibility."

Lyle shrugged. "It was luck."

"Luck," Noll said, "is subjective. Do you know what we study here at SPR?"

"I hear your guys in the Parapsychology course get to go ghost hunting as an extracurricular."

It was hard to deny that. All prospect hires at the University we're invited to study SPR's research methods. Most the time that included fielding active cases.

Lyle went on, "From what I've seen, it looks like you're going hard for the modern magician vibe. Card tricks, misdirection and all that."

"SPR," Noll started, "stands for the society for psychical research. We aim to understand events commonly described as paranormal. Ghost hunting is a part of that. We study mediumship, haunting, and the manifestation of psychic abilities."

Noll knew the bemused look on his face well. The arched eyebrow was one of his favorites.

Lyle said, "You mean magic."

"It's only magic when you don't understand what's really happening."

"Do you understand?"

Noll didn't answer.

"I thought you looked the is-this-your-card type." Lyle laughed, gathering his jacket. "Not interested but thanks for the talk."

Noll watched him carefully. On one hand, his skepticism could help them. SPR thrived on the disbelieving. It was easier to dismiss inexplicable phenomena when one didn't exactly believe in it. Disappearing objects became forgetfulness, disembodied voices traced to a television accidentally left on.

On the other hand, SPR didn't have a need for psychics unwilling to believe in their own abilities. That left Noll in a peculiar position. He dug in his pocket, flicking a small black and white object between his fingers. What if he could convince him?

Noll set the object on the table with a light chink.

Lyle eyed it sideways, halfway between his seat and the door. "What's that?"

"One die," Noll said. "Six sided. Would you like to roll it? Just once, then you can leave."

Lyle rolled his eyes. "You can't be serious."

Noll frowned. He was always serious.

Lyle strode back and snatched the die from the table.

Noll crossed his arms, "Call out a number."

"What?"

"Before you roll, call out a number," he urged. "One through six."

"Three." Lyle spit. He was annoyed, but that was okay. Noll just needed him to understand.

The die hit the table, once, twice and spun to a standstill. Three solid black dots faced the ceiling.

Lyle stared at it for a full minute. "Coincidence," he said.

"Could be," Noll agreed. "Why don't you try again? For good measure."

Lyle hesitated.

Noll reached into his pant pocket. "What about two dice?" He set another black and white die beside the first. "The chances of rolling a pair of dice with the same number is 16.7%. That's not exactly impossible, but the odds are against you."

Lyle's dark eyes cut Noll's but the weight of his stare was something Noll was used to. He waited out the silence.

Slowly, eventually, Lyle picked up both dice, one by one, making a show out of checking they were the exact same.

"Number?"

"Again?"

"It doesn't work if you don't say a number."

Lyle paused, fist over the table. "Three," he said again, "Wait no. Six."

The dice collided, sending themselves to opposing sides of the table. The die on the left showed six small black dots — the right, only three.

Lyle shook his head. "That's not possible."

"Why did you change your mind?"

"I don't know. It just sounded stupid to say the same thing twice."

Noll waved a hand producing four more die. "Three dice and the odds of rolling any number you call out falls to 1/36. Here are six dice." he said, setting them down one by one. "I'd say there's around 0.013% chance of guessing all six."

Lyle laughed. "You're crazy."

"Hm." Noll said. A smirk had already fixed itself to his smug face. "This is what we do here at SPR. We hypothesize, we research, and we gather data."

Lyle glanced at the dice. "What does it mean?"

Noll blinked. He thought it was pretty self-explanatory.

"What does it mean to guess right?" Lyle kept on.

"I guess that makes you a good guesser."

"Seriously?"

Noll held his chin in his palm. "Call your number."

Lyle thought hard, gathering the dice in his fist. He held it steady over the table. "How many?"

"What do you think?"

Lyle said, "One," and opened his hand.

All six dice landed in a kind of starburst pattern. They spun and thunked on the table before coming to a staggered standstill. Looking from the table to Noll then back to the table, Lyle couldn't stop the disbelieving grin spreading over his face. Every dice showed a single small black dot.

"What," Noll said, "are the odds?"


End file.
